


Losing Sleep

by ToTillAGarden



Series: Healing: A post-Stolen Century Anthology [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: GUESS WHOS BACK, Gen, back again, if no ones going to explore this dynamic then ill do it all by myself, its me with more angst, yay!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 21:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToTillAGarden/pseuds/ToTillAGarden
Summary: Healing was a difficult process for Lucretia, of course - but she didn't realize that Davenport had his own healing to do, too.This is inspired off of the line "most days, he could only say his own name," with emphasis on "most," because most days isn't all days, and that gives a gold mine of interpretation.





	Losing Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Just so you all know, I've never gotten this big of a response to a fic just about ever. Like. You all are so, so, so phenomenal... And you inspired me to write more!! So here's the next one.  
> If yesterday's story was about Lucretia healing with Davenport around, this one's about Davenport healing with Lucretia around.
> 
> I saw a comment today on the last fic that I really agreed with and that's that this dynamic between them is really interesting to explore - but I'm going to take that a step further and say that just post-memory loss healing is an interesting thing to explore on its own! The fact that Lucretia and Davenport's dynamic is underrated and not talked about enough only adds to that.  
> So I thought, while I'm still in a writing mood (since that does NOT happen often) I'm going to write a story for all seven of the characters, and make it an anthology - maybe besides Lup, because while I have an idea as to what might have happened to her it's very unclear - and post it all here.  
> This is Davenport's story, the last one was Lucretia's. I think I'll do Magnus next! Or maybe Barry. I still don't know. I might get hit with writer's block tomorrow and never finish any of this. You'll find out.

It was soon after she recovered her staff that Lucretia discovered Davenport’s nightmare.  
It was on a quiet, summer night, one of the few where she wasn’t working late, when she awoke to the screaming from his room. She ran down and pushed the door open only to see him still sleeping, clutching his head, tears streaming down his face, his yelling only increasing in volume and decreasing in coherence. Yet she still caught it anyway, before she shook him awake; she still realized that all he was screaming was “I’m Davenport,” over, and over, and over again. She woke him up and wiped the tears off of his face and he just kept muttering those same words, not looking at her. “I’m Davenport. I’m Davenport. I’m Davenport.”  
“You’re awake now. It’s okay.”  
He looked up at her then, yet his eyes seemed blank - as if he was still stuck in the dream - and then said it again.  
“You’re Davenport…” She replied, “And I’m Lucretia.”  
“I’m Davenport.”  
“And I’m Lucretia, and this is your bed. And that’s the blanket. And that’s the desk. And there’s the closet, with your clothes in it.” She pointed at each thing as she said it.  
“I’m Davenport.”  
“And I’m Lucretia, and this is your bed. And that’s the blanket. And that’s the desk. And there’s the closet, with your clothes in it, and the lamp, and the carpet. And this is your room, which is in the ship you live on, and you’re Davenport, and I have never seen you cry in your whole life.”  
He wiped his eyes, then stared at her for a moment, and then started to point to different things too - first to himself, then to Lucretia, then to everything she mentioned, and then to the picture of the crew of the ship on the wall.  
“Oh… That’s just a picture. You probably see it as static, don’t you?”  
He nodded.  
“Is that static what you saw in the dream too?”  
Another nod.  
“Do you want me to take it down?”  
He shook his head, then started pointing again.  
“Okay. That’s a notebook you never got to use, that’s the door, and there’s the window. And-“  
“I’m Davenport.”  
“Yeah. You’re Davenport.”

That was the first time it had happened, but certainly not the last; the nightmare turned into a recurring one fairly quickly. Yet every time Lucretia woke him up, they went through the same process again: he would wake up - at first in a daze - but soon started to point before she said anything, in the same order they did it the first time: to Lucretia first, and then everything in the room, almost as if they were both making sure everything was still real around them. That they weren’t losing it.  
It became a tradition, of sorts: Even when Lucretia began calling herself Director she couldn’t bear to change it when the nightmare came back again, and sometimes, a few years after the first dream, Davenport tried to say what he was pointing to. She knew, at that point, whenever he was trying to say anything again: he’d look at her, mouth open wide, as if he was trying to force a sound through his throat that just wouldn’t come out. If he gave up, which he did most of the time, he would just sigh, and Lucretia would supply the word for him - oftentimes with an “it’s okay,” or “thank you for trying.” He had probably tried saying all the things in the room, at some point, but had never really succeeded; the word “bed” came out once but hadn’t stuck with him, and he had gotten the “pi” in picture but never the rest of the word, and after working through all of them, he had given up for a while.  
Until one of the last times it had happened, where it had started again as usual: “You’re Davenport, and I’m - do you want to say something?”  
“Y-you-you're. L-lu-luc-lucretia.”  
“Yes!” She was crying, now, and he came to wipe her tears this time.  
“Lucretia!” He smiled as he said it, almost giddy - he hadn’t been this happy since he rediscovered illusion magic - and she could tell from his face just how long he had worked on it, spent weeks, months, even years.  
He pointed back to himself again, and said “Davenport,” then back to her, and said “Lucretia.” Then back and forth, again and again, “Davenport, Lucretia. Davenport, Lucretia.”  
“And this is your bed.” She replied, and then he started to point again. “And that’s the blanket, desk, closet, lamp, carpet, room, ship, picture, notebook, door, and window, and I’m Lucretia, and you are:”  
“Davenport.”  
“And that’s my staff, and Fisher’s downstairs, and the whole Bureau is sleeping, and there’s the earth, and we might have new employees tomorrow so be ready.”  
He nodded.  
“Their names are Magnus, Taako, and Merle, and they’ll probably bring back a relic, so remember what we practiced.”  
Another nod.  
“And don’t call me Lucretia in front of everyone else!”  
He nodded again, this time with a knowing smile.  
“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early. Good night!”  
“Davenport!”

**Author's Note:**

> A few extra Davenport-related tidbits that couldn't make it into here:
> 
> 1\. The first word I think Davenport ever learned to say (besides "I'm Davenport") was "help." This isn't an angsty thing, he was just so desperate for some form of communication he had to find a word that he could say and Lucretia would immediately know what he wanted. It helped him reach her, and he needed that.
> 
> 2\. Both illusion magic and flying the ship came naturally to Davenport, like muscle memory. The former he had figured out as a way to get Lucretia out of the cockpit when he needed her - all he needed to do was lean over the controls and feel the buttons and everything just snapped back into place - and the second he learned in secret, only for Lucretia to find out when he fell asleep in an illusory world he created, and she found him in probably the most peaceful state she'd ever see him in.  
> When she asked him how he picked those two skills up (again), the only thing he answered with was "Davenport" - which may not seem like much, but him being Davenport was actually the answer. She didn't realize that much, but she did know that those two skills, for reasons he didn't know, made him feel at ease and good about himself, and she made sure to let him make his own therapy.  
> (edit: if this fic pops up again, then congrats! you've discovered me retconning my own bonus content! if you want to sleuth out what this means for my next fic you're welcome to do so <3)


End file.
